Your Hands in Mine - Arc-V
by BunnyWings
Summary: "With his fingers wrapped around hers, dwarfing her hand's slender shape, she felt…safe… While that warmth was holding onto her, she knew everything would be okay." Each of the four Yuzu counterparts holding hands with their version of Yuya. Possible new ongoing project! Feedback please? Yuto x Ruri, Yuri x Serena, Yugo x Rin, Yuya x Yuzu.


**~A short and excited note from the author, Bunny:**  
 **Oh how good it feels to be writing again! *stretches happily* Now that I've finally gotten the new chapter of Tears 'Till 2AM completed, I've been able to turn my attention to a host of other projects, and here's the first result: the four "Yuyas" and four "Yuzus" holding hands with their counterparts. I've recently got really interested in this kind of writing, and I'm eager to hear what you guys think!**  
 **This story is dedicated to** _my supportive readers in my other stories._ **Thank you all for all of your kind and constructive reviews, and the time you spent writing them!**  
 **Without further ado or necessary explanation (I think) here's Your Hands in Mine, Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc-V edition:**

* * *

Yuto and Ruri:

The brick walls of the alleyway were hardly comfortable, but at least they had each other. To ask for anything more than that would be unthinkable. Huddled closely, she whiled away their time in hiding by holding his hand. Her fingers softly cradled the backs of his, while her thumb gently traced over his palm. His hands had been through so much, and changed so dramatically from before the attack. Smooth, milky scars lined his skin, contrasted by rough, worn callouses. She reached to gingerly feel the half-healed burns on several of his fingertips, then swept down with butterfly touches against fresher cuts to a place where his fair skin had been rubbed raw by concrete. Flecks of gravel were still imbedded in the soreness.

Her heart twisted to feel the softness of the back of his hand against her fingers, and at the same time, to be able to touch the roughly injured palm… One side showed the real him, when he was soft and gentle, when he smiled and laughed. The other side was after the attack, now wounded and ragged to the point of being repelling. But she held on to both sides, out of caring, and out of pity. Subconsciously, her light touch tightened, afraid to let go. But then, she remembers, that only hurts him.

She lets go immediately when he winces in pain, and he almost draws away from her altogether. But she grasps him by the wrist, fearful, apologetic, and waits until his clenched fingers ease and he trusts her to touch him again. It doesn't take long.

She holds his one damaged hand in both of hers, afraid to move, afraid to hurt him. All she can do is offer what comfort she can with the gentle love of her touch, and she quietly nuzzles into his shoulder to let him know she's sorry. His head softly rests against her hair, and his fingers lace through hers. Apology accepted.

She continued to hold his hand long after they both fell asleep, vowing with her quietness to never let him go, promising with her gentle care to never let him get hurt again.

~

Yuri and Serena:

She barely knew his name, and she'd only talked to him a few times before. Yet here they were, both seated closely outside the Professor's office, waiting to be summoned. She should have felt calm about this, or at least honored that the Professor wished to have a personal audience with her. But she didn't. Sitting with _him_ made her feel like a schoolgirl waiting for detention. She didn't like it.

Uncomfortable as the circumstances were, they were made all the more uncomfortable by his touch. He'd arrived at the bench despondent, downcast, and with an uncertainty she'd never seen before. When he reached to take her hand, it was out of pity that she let him. She regretted it instantly. His hands weren't quite cold, but they offered no warmth. They were in some kind of limbo that made her doubt how alive he really was, or perhaps if he was sick. At first, she couldn't decide, because he merely laid his hand over hers, and kept it there silently. Once he actually moved, she was quite certain he was sick, but in a different way.

Every touch of his fingers put her on edge, as they traced over her skin in nonsensical patterns. There was no direction, no method, no rhythm to the way he twined around her hand, except, she thought, like an insect in flight, or a snake deciding how best to constrict its prey. What made it all worse was how teasing his contact with her was, how his skin barely touched her. His hand holding hers felt more like a chill breath than any gesture of human affection. It was eerie.

Her crawling skin finally convinced her to pull away, and it unnerved her that he let her slip out of his tender grasp. She kept her hand alone, tucked on the other side of her lap. Even her gaze refused to meet him. She felt it necessary to stay away from him altogether. But then how did she end up looking at him again? How did she end up allured by those eyes and their lamb-like innocence? How did she not shoot off the bench in alarm when he silently offered his hand?

Her response was autonomous. He held her hand once more, twining over it endlessly, barely even touching it, seeming to find comfort in an act she found so strangely uncomfortable. Even when they parted, and she was admitted into the office, she felt herself shaking out her hand, hoping to erase all traces of that ominous affection. She never did.

~

Yugo and Rin:

They sat on a grassy hill, overlooking the Tops across the inlet waterway, and it was all of the world that they needed. It was contentment, but holding hands with him wasn't. Rather, he was holding her hand, and she was holding leather. The strangely slick softness of his glove bothered her, no matter how many times her fingers snaked over it. She longed to touch skin.

He glanced at her in concern as her fidgeting reached its peak, and her fingers continued to tease at the leather in annoyance. When he caught onto the source of her discomfort, he yanked his hand away, his voice chiding her with a twang of complaint. Her hand hung in space, and for a moment, she considered leaving him be. But the feel of the empty air against her palm was even less bearable than the leather.

Her hand found his again in a flash, tugging it back to her by the wrist. The glove came off, and the complaints ceased. The first thing she noticed, before any other thought crossed her mind, was how dirty his hand was. No doubt he left the gloves on as an excuse not to wash them. It sparked a new tick of irritation in her mind, and in a motherly way, she held him by the arm with one hand, and began brushing his dirty palm with the other. But not only dirt had found its way into the cracks of his skin; axel grease stains from who-knows-how-long-ago smeared at her touch, and mundane threads, stuck to wisps of lent beneath his fingernails, proved that the gloves had truly been on too long.

It only occurred to her after several moments of scrubbing that his skin was feverishly hot. But now that his hand was outside its stifling leather casing, she felt more than obligated to cool it down. So she continued stroking and massaging his hand in methodical lines, long after the grid of grime had been kindly scoured away. When the heat had left his palm, and her own chill hands had been worked into a balmy sweat, she quietly turned over her work.

Here and there, she'd find a speck or spot she missed, and she'd thumb it away without a thought, but finally, she deemed the hand clean, spotless even. Formerly unclean and gritty, now it was soft, lean, and just a little bit bigger and stronger than hers. But with effort, she managed to envelop the hand, and finally cherished the sleek curves of his clean skin. No more leather.

But now his hands felt hot again, and with a blink, she loosened her grip and glanced up at him in confusion. She could have laughed. He was blushing adorably hard at her touch, just he was too polite to say anything about it. She knew he felt awkward, and probably wanted her to let go. But he'd better get used to it, because she liked how it felt. Her hand wrapped even tighter around his. With a smile, she reached for his other glove.

~

Yuya and Yuzu:

School had just let out, and she walked home with him today, the same as she did every day. She held her book bag with both hands, watching her own feet taking step after step across the sidewalk. It was quiet, with only the distant sound of calling seagulls and happily chattering pedestrians reaching their road, alone together. So she didn't know what invisible sound caused her to look away, and notice his hand outstretched, hovering politely near to hers. Her gaze flew up to his in surprise. He was smiling shyly, silently, and he flexed his fingers out in an offer. A smile lit up her own face and she let go of her bag with one hand. It was all the invitation he needed.

It was hard for her not to blush at his touch. Though his hands were so much larger than hers, so much clumsier, his hold was gentle, and wrapped around her palm warmly. She was completely lost in thought when his fingers shifted, and twined with hers. The affectionate gesture immediately made her turn red. Tearing her eyes away from his, she saw his smile spread a bit. Without a word, her hand was pulled forward, and they both began to run.

She didn't know where he was taking her, but she didn't ask, didn't utter a word of protest. Her eyes were only on him as she breathlessly ran, clenching his hand a little tighter. He gave her hand a comforting squeeze in reply.

With his fingers wrapped around hers, dwarfing her hand's slender shape, she felt…safe… While that warmth was holding onto her, she knew everything would be okay. She let go of all feeling, let go of her worries, and merely ran, because his hands may have been weirdly big, but they were protective, just like him. Wherever he led her, she'd be safe…

They stopped running when the sun was just setting. A carnival of lights spread in an arc over their head, and a glowing amusement park lay before her. In her moment of surprise, her hand slipped out of his, but he didn't let her fall. The protective warmth caught her palm. He'd never let her go. Beaming up at him, her heart swelled, and she took his hand in hers. For a sudden surprise like this, the boy deserved a whack on the head with a paper fan. He was too gentlemanly. But she was too touched to attack him.

She felt an anxious sweat creep across the deep lines of his palm, and his grip shifted nervously, one knuckle at a time. She wasn't saying anything, and no doubt he feared she didn't like his surprise. She smiled wider. Her thumb stroked his tense muscles until his fingers eased in confusion. She turned over his wrist, and without a word, traced a heart into his palm. His uncertain face lit up instantly.

Their fingers twined again as they strode through the lights. She felt that safety again, but more importantly, with a heart shared between their palms, she knew all the things that neither of them needed to say.

* * *

 **Aaaand done! What do you guys think? Good? Bad? Never do that again? Definitely make more? I know I'd like to. I loved being able to write each part ambiguously, without dialogue or identity, but I wanted to make sure it was pretty clear who everyone was, even without the names above each shift of camera. That and holding hands is something simple, and really taken for granted, but that has a lot of potential and a lot that can be done with it. In fact, I may have gone overboard on a few of these, but they were fun.**  
 **For anyone noticing the strange way the title is laid out, it's because I'm leaving the option open to make more stories related to Your Hands in Mine, just for different series. If anyone liked this one enough to want more, I'm open for ideas!**

 **See you guys in the reviews,**  
 **Peace,**  
 **~Bunny**


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